Conversation in a Car in the Middle of Nowhere
by cactusnell
Summary: Sherlock and John pass the time on stakeout talking about love and marriage. Guess who's pro and who's con? implied Sherlolly, although Molly is there only in the conversation!


The two men sat in the cold car, in the cold rain, in the cold countryside, with a growingly cold atmosphere developing between them.

"Are you really sure our guy is hiding in that ratty looking little cottage, Sherlock. I haven't seen a single sign of life!"

"Hence the term 'hiding', John. He wouldn't be very good at it if we could easily observe him, would he now?"

John shivered a bit, and wrapped his arms even more tightly around himself. "I can't believe that I come back from a warm beach with a loving wife to spend the very next night stuck out here with you!"

"Yes, John, please do tell me one more time about the tropically warm paradise, and the tropically warm wife you have spent the last seven days with. I don't believe I got the point of the first dozen or so references you…"

"Yes you did. You always get the point, Sherlock. I do, too. It can sometimes take me a bit longer but…"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, John."

"Sherlock, for the past few weeks you have regaled me with story after story of disgruntled wives doing in their formerly beloved spouses. You are playing with my mind! I got to the point that when I should have been gazing appreciatively at my wife in a bikini, and the only thing I could think of was, 'well, it would be hard to hide a weapon in that!' "

"Given your wife's former occupation as an assassin, I would think that you should concern yourself with keeping her very happy. Or devise an exit strategy of your own, possibly involving a witness protection scheme. Besides, all my stories were simply in retaliation for your constant emphasis of my blissfully single state!"

"Maybe I was just trying to have a conversation which didn't involve your massive ego or 240 varieties of tobacco ash, mate!"

"243, John!"

"Oh, bloody hell. I hate to belabor the point, Sherlock, but you need a wife. You cannot continue to live vicariously through my wife and child. You're not getting any younger…"

"Once again, master of stating the obvious…"

",,,and your looks won't last forever. Let's face it, if you have to rely on your personality, your generosity of spirit, or your kindness, you're pretty much screwed!"

"I have been reliably informed that smart is the new sexy, John."

"Yes, by a dominatrix with a penchant for blackmail, espionage, and assorted other crimes. A dead one, to boot…" He didn't notice his friend's covert smile at the last phrase.

"And where would you suggest I find this 'wife', John? You have pointed out my rather unlovable nature. Should a purchase a female child on the black market, raise her in a garrett to know and love only me, and marry her when she comes of age? As you point out, I am not getting any younger, and waiting that long may…"

"Sherlock, that darkly humorous plan sounds a little grim even for you. Almost as if you'd thought about it…"

"Well, where else would you suggest I find a wife. A dating service for sociopaths? Does Tesco's stock them John? In what aisle would I find one?"

"I was thinking of the morgue."

"Really, John, even given my apparent lack of enthusiasm for regular indulgence in sexual relations, I would think that you allow me a more lively partner than those to be found…"

"You know exactly who I'm talking about, you prat!"

"Then perhaps I would prefer a less lively partner! One who would not revert to incessant giggling at inopportune moments!"

"Which begs the question of how you would know about the giggling, Sherlock…"

"Balance of probability, based on deductions, of course."

"There's a lot to be said for Molly as wife material, Sherlock."

"Convince me, John!"

"Well, she's smart, and kind, and just plain good, Sherlock. And many have suggested that you are pure evil. She'd balance you nicely."

"Not everything is so black and white, John. In fact, I contribute to several major charities, I never kick dogs, only the occasional cat, and I am kind to my mother on Mother's Day. And Molly has been known to jaywalk on occasion."

"She could keep people from actually killing you, mate. I know Greg has come…"

"Who?"

"Greg, Sherlock, Greg Lestrade! Anyway, I believe he's come close to killing you on several occasions, but I'm convinced he'd be more loath to make Molly a widow. Or your kids orphans."

"Kids, John. Now we have children?"

"It might be nice, mate. They could have your looks, and Molly's temperament. Best of both worlds!"

"Or they could wind up looking like Mycroft, and acting like me. Would you wish to subject poor Dr. Hooper to such a calamity?"

"Moving on, Sherlock. Molly has no close immediate family. No in-laws to alienate! There's a lot to be said for a wife so unencumbered."

"Spoken like the husband of a former hit-woman with a completely fabricated history. For all you know, Mary could have dozens of siblings, and murder could be the family business!"

John was beginning to look a bit uncomfortable, as if that thought had already occurred to him. But he continued his campaign. "She'd be good for you. You know you forget to sleep regularly, or eat. She could fatten you up a bit." John now studied his friend in what little light was available in the dark vehicle. "Although, it does seem to me that you have gained a pound or two while I was away. Mrs. Hudson been force feeding you, then?"

"I'd like to see her try!"

John's voice now seemed to turn a bit more serious, and quiet. "Sherlock, we've never really talked about your sexual preferences. But I have caught you looking at some of the sites on my computer…"

"This isn't going to end with you offering to leave your wife, is it, John. Because as adorable as I find you, you are definitely not my type. And Mary scares the hell out of me!"

"Shut up, Sherlock!" John almost yelled, the noise echoing unpleasantly inside the car. He continued, more calmly. "I know you don't consider sex as a priority, but, as a doctor, I have to tell you that sublimating any natural urge for an extended period of time can be detrimental to your health, both mental and physical…"

"So, she'd be good for my health, eh, John?", Sherlock asked, almost testily.

Hit a nerve there, John thought, so he continued more cautiously. "Molly is a very attractive woman, Sherlock, although I don't expect that you had noticed." Had John glanced over at his friend at that point, he may have noticed the small smile indicating that Sherlock Holmes had indeed noticed. "It would certainly be no sacrifice on your part to share a bed with her. Sex would be good for your health, Sherlock. I know you don't indulge, but think of it as something like peanuts…"

Sherlock Holmes now looked at his best friend as if he had lost his mind. "Peanuts, John?"

"Yes, Sherlock," John continued, sounding a bit pedantic. "Peanuts. You can't eat just one. The more you eat, the more you want. And if the peanuts are readily available, you will indulge in peanut eating on a more regular basis. In fact, you will find yourself craving peanuts. Looking forward to peanuts, thinking about peanuts…"

"John, have you developed a peculiar food fetish you'd like to discuss?" John blushed as he realized how he must sound. "And what makes you think I don't indulge in s… peanut eating from time to time? I am not immune to such things. I just don't care to discuss that aspect of my life, even with you." John now looked slightly startled. "And you should, perhaps, have chosen a different analogy, given my nut allergy."

John was groaning in despair of ever getting through to his friend, when they were interrupted by Sherlock's mobile, indicating an incoming text.

SUSPECT FOUND AND ARRESTED AT LOCATION YOU GAVE US. SCOTLAND YARD DULY APPRECIATIVE . - LESTRADE

Sherlock showed the message to his companion, who looked at it with consternation.

"What does he mean, the 'location you gave us'?"

Sherlock answered evenly. "Just what it says, John. I extrapolated his location from the available evidence, and sent Lestrade and his minions to apprehend him."

"So, he's not out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"No, John. Never was."

John was balling his fists, and when he did finally speak, it was through clenched jaws. "Why, you bloody bastard, are we, then, out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"We needed to talk John. Despite my humorous jibes, I wanted you to know that I appreciate your concern, and I have made a decision."

"To marry?"

"No, John. That would, at this point, be bigamy. Molly's shift is about to end, and I have decided to go home to my wife. As it turns out, I did accomplish at least one thing while you were on your second sex holiday." John was now looking at his friend in amazement. "And I must stop using that term, as Molly, for some reason, like you, prefers the more unrealistic term 'honeymoon'! Anyway, buckle your seatbelt, we're leaving. For some strange reason, despite my allergy, I feel a strange craving for peanuts. More than one, in fact!"

"Step on it, mate, I'm feeling some cravings of my own!"


End file.
